


Need You Tonight (And Only Tonight)

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: otterandferret, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Fingering, HP: EWE, Hermione Granger - character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only met once a year. One night of memories to avoid, one private night of sweat and sex. Once per year, every year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need You Tonight (And Only Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katatonic25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katatonic25/gifts).



They only met once a year. One night of memories to avoid, one private night of sweat and sex. Once per year, every year.

It had been an accident, the first time, when they ran into each other in an anonymous club deep in the twisting streets of London, a place to hide from reality and surrender to fantasy. He turned away from the bar, his glass of whiskey finished and abandoned between one heartbeat and the next, and she stood behind him. They stared at each other, as still as if Petrified. His heart pounded under his ribs, louder than the thrumming bass of the music. His throat tightened. He wondered if she thought the same things he had -- caught, trapped, identified -- then she lifted her chin and gave one quick, short shake of her head.

"Helena Gardner," she said.

He met her eyes, her dark and flashing eyes full of a secret he shared, and he smiled. Extending his hand, he nodded to her. "David Malloy."

An accident, that first meeting, that one night, and they never expected anything else. But he was there the following year and so was she. Year after year, the calendar ticked over to the second of May, to the anniversary of _then_.

Year after year, they returned for their own anniversary, their hidden night of remembrance and forgetting.

Draco slipped through the crowd, ignoring the dancers, ignoring the flashing lights and pounding music. Every year he knew she'd be there; every year he feared she wouldn't. He held his breath and stood beyond the edge of the dance floor, one hand on a tall steel pillar, and he turned.

There was a curtained alcove with a metal table and a long black leather sofa. There were two glasses of whiskey on the table. There were dark and flashing eyes hidden behind a cloud of hair.

He exhaled. She'd come, one more time.

He pulled the curtain shut behind him. A quick flick of his wand held it closed and Silenced the noise of the club. No interruptions, no witnesses. The night was only for them.

He slid onto the sofa beside her, hips pressed together, thigh shifting against thigh. He laid his hand on her leg, his fingers rubbing the inside of her knee below the short hem of her black skirt. 

They both took a glass. "To memories," she murmured.

"To forgetting them," he said.

They locked eyes and tapped glasses, then downed the whiskey and let it start the burn in them. Draco took her empty glass, shoved it to the far side of the table with his, and gripped her chin to lift her head. The first kiss always tasted of that whiskey, thick and warm, a hint of cream and smoke. The toast, and then the taste, was where they knew they began.

Hermione opened for him and he entered, tongue swept across her lip and over her teeth to explore the heat and wet of her mouth. Thrust and return, press in and draw out. She echoed his movements, following him, leading him.

He gripped her thigh, tight. It was rough, he knew it was. She liked it. Her head fell back and she groaned. She spread her legs and grabbed his hand to push it higher. No begging, no asking. Hermione demanded and Draco responded.

She never wore anything under her skirt when they met there. She pushed her hand between her thighs and straight to her cunt. Trimmed curls, plump lips. She was wet before he touched her and it took no effort at all to push between her folds and inside, one finger reaching deep into her. A twist of his hand, a familiar groped, had his thumb on her clit.

Hermione tensed and rocked her hips, pushing against his hand. As he stroked her -- in-out-in -- she loosened around his finger, giving him room for a second, then a third. He knew what each shift of her body meant, when to thrust hard, when to circle her clit, when to reach deep and press on her G-spot. He knew her signals, every flutter of her lashes and twist of her mouth; he knew how to drive her higher.

When she kicked her heels on the floor and threw her head back, he bent over her. He sealed his lips to hers and he swallowed her shout, trapping her moans and grunts of release. Her cunt spasmed, clutching at his fingers, her inner muscles gripping him tight.

He felt the last flutters on his hand and he lifted his head as he drew his fingers free. She gave one more groan when he slipped out of her. She slumped against him, her entire body quivering, and he sucked her juices off his skin as he waited for her to open her eyes.

She relaxed slowly and came back to herself, a smile curving her lips. A lift of her brows indicated her readiness. Draco leaned back in the sofa, arms spread along the top. Hermione opened his shirt, the buttons ripped from their holes, and tucked the material at the small of his back to keep it out of the way. His cock twitched, half-hard with anticipation. She raked her nails over it, scratching down his zip and laughing silently when he swore. It thrilled her to force sound from him.

She pressed her hand down with two fingers on either side of his cock. She stroked slowly, teasing him for her own amusement. She waited until his trousers were strained over his hips and the head of his cock was dripping enough to dampen the fabric covering it.

Sometimes she reached beneath his waistband; sometimes she unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock through the opening. Usually she twisted on the sofa and bent over him, her hair across his lap like a blanket. This time, she pushed at his shoulder and he went with her shove to recline in the corner of the alcove. Hips lifted, Draco watched her wriggle his trousers down his thighs and over his knees. She stripped them off and knocked them aside.

She always looked greedy when she looked at him, her dark eyes gleaming as she licked her lips and decided when to start. Guiding one of his legs to bend up and rest against the back of the sofa, she settled him how she wanted. 

Draco watched, one hand idly stroking his cock, until she pushed his fingers away with a scolding cluck of her tongue. He laughed and tucked his hands behind his head. Hermione gave a sharp nod, satisfied with his obedience, and nestled between his legs. She laid her head on his thigh and dragged her fingers along the top of his shaft, following the protruding veins up to the head.

She liked to play with him, to explore his cock as if it were the first time. A brush of her thumb beneath the crow, a flutter of her nails along the underside, a cup of her palm beneath his scrotum. By the time she was ready, he was well past that, well on his way to begging her to _suck_. She always seemed to know how far she could push him and she pushed him to the edge before she lowered her head.

Her tongue worked around him, up the shaft, around the head, into the small hole that was open and dripping salty pre-come. She kissed the head and rubbed it on her lips, then over her cheeks to smear the drops on her skin. He managed to hold back a groan, but barely, at the glimmer on her face.

She kept him hard, hot and pulsing between her lips, thrumming in the tight circle of her hand. She knew his signals as well as he knew hers and he didn't have to tell her how close he was. She sensed it, tasted it or felt it in the way his cock twitched, and she lifted her head, releasing him.

Gritting his teeth, Draco struggled for control over himself. It would be cruel to leave him on the edge if they both didn't know why she wouldn't let him come. He didn't want to. He wasn't a teenager, ripe and ready to go again without a rest. It took him longer to recover, and that was too long for both of them to wait. Every second they weren't concentrating on each other was a second their shared memories might return. Neither of them wanted to spend a heartbeat on remembering the past, on their different, but so similar, reasons for trying to forget.

Control gathered, Draco tapped Hermione's shoulder. She scrambled up and around, hauling her skirt to her waist to present her arse to him. Her thighs shone with wetness; her lips were open to expose her cunt. Draco knelt behind her and touched the head of his cock to her folds. Keening softly, Hermione lowered her head onto her arms.

A shift of his hips aligned him to her entrance and he pushed in, _drove_ in, filling her with one stroke. He clutched her waist to keep from jamming her into the wall. Each time he withdrew, it was to the tip; each time he thrust, it was to the hilt. His hips slammed against her arse, sweat tacking their skin together.

Draco stretched his thumbs and pried her cheeks apart. The dusky pucker of her arsehole clenched in rhythm with his thrusts. He slowed, taking one hand off her waist to set his thumb against the tight ring. As he slid into her cunt, her arse opened, and Draco popped the tip of his thumb into her.

She snapped her head up with a shriek that made his blood burn. Her cunt loosened and she pushed back on his cock with a slick noise. He heard a quiet spattering and looked down to see her dripping onto the leather seat between her knees.

Swearing to himself, awe mixed with lust, he held her cheeks wide. He watched the clench of flex of her muscles as he fucked her, listened to the wet slap of their bodies pounding together. When she rounded her back and pushed her head into the sofa cushion, he picked up speed.

Hermione's hand slipped between her thighs and she rubbed her clit, a few hard circles shoving her over the edge. She ducked her head into the crook of her arm and muffled a scream. In the depths of it, Draco heard her calling his name. It pushed him to his own release. He hauled her hips against his and clamped on to her waist, his fingers digging in with bruising force as he stiffened and came.

Each pulse of his cock yanked a grunt from him and the last, deepest spasm unlocked his muscles. He collapsed over her. They slumped onto the sofa, limbs tangled, her shirt stuck to his chest. 

Several minutes passed before either of them had the strength to move. Draco groped for his trousers to find his wand, shushing Hermione when she murmured at the disturbance. He drew free of her and cast a quick spell to clean his cock before gently pushing her thighs apart to dry and clean her as well.

He freshened their clothes and cleaned the sofa after they dressed. The smell of sex hung in the air and he left that alone. They'd leave the club with the scent of each other on their skin.

Flicking his wand at the curtain, he released the charm holding it closed. Pounding music poured in with the flashing, colored lights from above the dance floor. Hermione leaned over and gave him a kiss, slow and delicate, almost chaste. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Draco," she whispered. "Same time next year." 

He nodded. "Happy anniversary, Hermione," he murmured. "See you then." She kissed him again before she slipped out of the alcove and disappeared into the crowd of dancers. Draco waited until he was sure she was gone before he followed.

One more year to wait before they had one more night together. They forgot everything that happened in the past and they waited for that one night, the only night they wanted to remember.


End file.
